by R. S. Medina
My ears are ringing. I cover them with my hands to try and make them stop. But they won't stop ringing. My nose is burning from the smell of blood and gunpowder. The unwelcome smell of hot metal, fireworks, and dirt crawls into and invades my nose. The same dirt that will be used to bury my dead body when this is over with, and my body goes cold.
Oh, my God. Olivia is going to grow up without a mother. I'm going to leave her motherless.
It's not my blood, I realize. I'm not bleeding. Not my blood.
I look over, and I see Tristan. His face is torn open, and there is blood everywhere. There is brain matter on the wall behind him. It's in my hair and on my clothes.
I wretch all over the floor.
And again, I'm screaming. Even though my throat is on fire. I can't stop.
Tristan. Tristan. Tristan.
I go to touch him, to save him, but there's nothing else to save. I can't put him back together.
I look at Finn for help. He didn't mean to do this, right? He can help save Tristan. Finn looks calm like he's observing what's happening, but he's not part of it. He's a bystander or an audience member watching a movie. He's not really here.
And then Finn looks at me, and he cocks his head. After a long moment of examining me and watching the tears stream down my face, he points the barrel of the gun at my chest and tells me, "I loved you. You deserve this."
Present
I spent years devoting my life to my military career, and they kick me out. That was my life, and after three deployments, they discharge me like it's nothing. I was disposable. And it broke my heart. I was lost without my career, the only thing I've ever known how to do or wanted to do was be a Marine, and then one day it was all over. And I wasn't ready.
But nothing has ever wrecked me like Blair. She destroyed me. Without Blair, I literally have nothing left. And I know there's no going back.
I have no job, no skills, I've done unforgivable things, and now I've lost my wife to another man. There is no coming back from this.
Blair is sobbing, and with tears streaming down her face, her eyes look more blue than normal. She's looking at me for help, but there's nothing I can do for Tristan now. Not that I would if I could. A gunshot to the head is permanent. There's no fixing that. He's gone. Good riddance.
I tilt my head at her as she looks at me, and I wonder what she's thinking. Not that it matters. In a moment, nothing will matter anymore. All this pain will end.
I point the barrel of the gun at her.
"I loved you," I tell her. And I did. I know that I wasn't always the best husband or the most loving, but I loved the hell out of her. I loved her so much. And she wrecked me. She totally destroyed me. Because of her, I have nothing left.
"You deserve this," I tell her. And then I turn the gun, put it to my temple. And I pull the trigger.
There are some fates worse than death. I consider mine one of them.
All I see when I close my eyes now is red. Red all over everything. Tristan and Finn. And all of their red. It's what I see when I close my eyes at night.
And now I have no one. No Finn to wake up to. No Tristan to say nice things to me. And I have to carry on alone, for Olivia, which is exactly what I deserve—to be alone.
Tristan's family blames me for his death. If it weren't for the "whore who couldn't keep her legs closed," he would still be alive. And they aren't wrong. If I hadn't called him over that day, he wouldn't have come over, and he would have never been in that position.
People went onto his social media pages and wrote about how much he would be missed and how loved he was. People flooded his page with pictures and memories. And he was loved by so many. He had such a good heart. I had to stop reading, though, when people talked about how I would get what I deserved because karma is a bitch. What they don't realize is that I got my karma. I hate myself more than they could ever understand.
I had the two loves of my life taken from me in front of my eyes. I had to watch as they bled out all over my living room in front of me, and there was nothing I could do. And now I have no one, not even myself. And the guilt...the guilt weighs on me with every single breath I take.
That day, after Tristan didn't answer any of Billy's calls or texts, Billy showed up at our house to make sure Tristan was okay. But it was too late. Tristan was already long gone, his body growing cold. Police were on scene, and I'll never forget the look of pure heartbreak and devastation followed by hate on Billy's face when he saw me and as he tried to cross the police line to go to Tristan. It's a look I will never be able to forget, not even in my dreams. It will haunt me till the day I die, and then probably after.
I wasn't allowed to go to Tristan's funeral, although I'm not sure I would have gone if I could. I don't think I could look at his casket and know that I put him there. I couldn't face his family and friends and loved ones. His funeral was held on a Thursday, which used to be my favorite day.
I also saw that I wasn't the only person Tristan was showing interest in. Some random girl posted a screen shot of a conversation they had and how she would miss how sweet he was to her. He told her that "she should stop being so pretty" just like he did to me that first day in the grocery store. I felt sick when I saw that. I fell for it. And I feel fucking stupid.
Oh, and to top it all off, it turns out that Tristan was the father of his ex's Stephanie's baby. Now there's another child out there in the world besides Olivia who will grow up without their daddy. So, there's that.
Finn's family won't speak to me. They hate me, and rightly so. They blame me for what happened. And they aren't wrong either. I should have gotten Finn the help he needed sooner. I could have pushed harder to help him get treatment for his PTSD and depression. I pushed him too far. I could have reacted differently. I should have called the cops instead of Tristan, even if that meant Finn getting into trouble. Better in trouble than dead. My relationship with Chazz is non-existent now. She disowned me. At the funeral, his family wouldn't even let me sit near them, but I don't blame them. They lost a son and brother.
The whole town is gossiping about me, the home wrecking whore. Everyone blames me. And they aren't wrong. There's a special place in Hell for me they claim.
But now I have to find a way to move on. Olivia and I are moving. Where? I don't know, yet. I just know that it will be somewhere far away. I don't want Olivia to have to grow up here in this town where she is penalized and prosecuted and judged because of who her mother is. She doesn't deserve to be the daughter of a whore. She deserves a better mother period. I should have thought about that before I caused all of this.
Some people claim that I'm running from my problem, and I guess I am. I'm running from the looks and the judgment and the memories. I want to run so far that no one knows who I am, what my name is, or what I've done.
The day will come, though, where I'm going to have to figure out a way to tell Olivia who her father was and what happened to him. How am I going to do that? How do I explain that to her? That is my fate. That is why I say that this fate is worse than death. How can Olivia love her mother when her mother is the reason her father is no longer alive? Who turned her father into someone who killed someone else and himself?
Until then, I will do my best to do right by her, like I should have been doing all along. Instead of worrying about myself.
I will forever hold so much guilt, and I have to live with it, because as much as I want to, I can't leave Olivia without a mother and a father. But I wish every single day that Finn had killed me instead. It should have been me. Finn lived so long, struggling with his guilt, his loss, his depression, his PTSD, but he fought through it. He struggled to stick around for us.
I should have loved Finn more.
Maybe, Finn did love me more.
Dear Reader,
First let me say, thank you so much for picking up this book and deciding to read it. I'm truly honored.
For those of you who know me, I've gotten a lot of questions if this story is
truth or if it's based on my life.
So first, let me say, this story is completely fictional.
However, as author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie said, "I can write with authority [only] about what I know well, which means that I end up using surface detail of my own life in my fiction."
"Love Me More" is about a broken woman struggling with becoming a mother, being a wife, her body changing with child birth, and feeling lonely, sad, rejected, and desperately wanting to feel wanted. These are concepts every woman ever can relate to. So yes, there is some truth in "Love Me More."
My husband in real life was in the Navy; however, he does not struggle with any kind of PTSD or mental illness. And we do have a child together, a son, and are happily married. He's been the biggest supporter of me writing "Love Me More."
With that being said, I was inspired to write this based on people I have known. In fact, one of the driving reasons for this novel being written was because of a loss I experienced of a friend— someone who had always known of my dream to write, and supported and encouraged me. That friend will always have a special place in my heart.
But again, this story is purely fictional. Please enjoy it as such, as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Love,
R.S. Medina
First I'd like to say thank you to everyone who decided to pick up this book and read it. Seriously, thank you. Even if just one person likes it, I'm happy.
I'd also like to say that for this book, I used Finn's PTSD to show how mentally broken he was and how it leads to him making the decisions he did. Not everyone who has PTSD will ever make the decisions that Finn did. However, Post Traumaic Stress Disorder is a very real mental illness that affects millions of people, especially our combat service members. PTSD can severely affect all aspects of a person's day to day life.
If you, or someone you know, have been through a traumatic event and are struggling, please seek out help. You can get help. It's not showing weakness; it's showing strength.
For more information, please visit the National Center for PTSD website at http://www.ptsd.va.gov/index.asp and the National Institute of Mental Health website at https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/topics/post-traumatic-stress-disorder-ptsd/index.shtml.
With that said, I'd like to say a very big thank you to a list of people for helping me get this book out into the world.
Hope Siemsen, thank you for being the best sister I could ever ask for and for reading and rereading every freaking copy of this story from horrible rough draft to finish. You were my motivation and support, my biggest cheerleader. You were my rock and kept me going when I wanted to quit. Thank you for always being brutally honest and for believing in me even when I didn't believe in myself. Thank you.
Joy Nichols, thank you, thank you, thank you so much for believing in me and reading for me. You always went above and beyond, and I sincerely appreciate it. Thank you for all of your help and guidance along the way. Thank you for your knowledge and saying the things you do that help with that creative spark. Also, thank you for letting me bitch, moan, cry, vent, and constantly talk about writing to you. Without you, this book would not be seeing the light of day. And I know you hate touchy feely, mushy stuff, so deal with it, because I fucking love you.
Amy Donnelly, my editor at Alchemy and Words, thank you so much for being so kick ass. I absolutely adore you, and I think it was fate that Joy introduced us and you had an opening. You're amazing. And you way went above and beyond the duties of your job. I am so lucky that I got to experience this amazing moment of publishing my first book with such an amazing person. Seriously, you're like my soul sister. I'm so glad to know you.
And finally thank you to my awesome beta readers, Rachel Moore, Haylee White, Hailey Bearden, Jennie Simpson, Lisa Seich, and Lisa Driskell. Beta readers are so important to the writing process, and your feedback was invaluable. Thank you, thank you, thank you. A million times thank you. You guys were thoughtful, honest, and insightful. No amount of words or appreciation can ever explain how happy I am to have had you in this process. Thank you.
And last but not least, thank you to my family. Thank you for believing in me and encouraging me. You saw talent in me and believed in me way before I ever did in myself. Thank you, Dad for being my biggest supporter and picking me up when I fall down. And thank you, Mom, for keeping every single "book" I wrote as a child to embarrass me with as an adult. I love you guys.
My name is Rhea, but I write under R.S. Medina.
Love Me More is my debut novel, and writing has always been my passion, even as a little girl. My mother has every short story and "book" I've ever written.
I'm a native of Texas, where I live with my wonderful husband and son. When I'm not hanging out with them, I spend my time reading or writing, or sleeping, which are my three favorite things, not necessarily in that order.
I have a bachelor's degree in psychology from Brandman University. I love stories full of angst and twists. I love villains, and I'm not always a fan of happily ever after.
If you would like to contact me, I would love to hear from you. You can email at me @[email protected], or you can find me here:
Facebook: R.S. Medina, Author https://www.facebook.com/authorrsmedina/
Twitter: @authorrsmedina
Instagram: @author.rs.medina
i hate u, I love u (feat. Olivia o'brien)—gnash Olivia O-Brien
Perfectly Flawed—Otep
Plane vs. Tank vs. Submarine—Tigers Jaw
I Don't Mind—Defeater
The Way You Look Tonight—Frank Sinatra
Middle Fingers Up—Attila
Never Saw It Coming—Tigers Jaw
The Sound of Silence—Disturbed
The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows—Brand New
Here To Mars—Coheed and Cambria
Alarm—Anne-Marie
I Am A Nightmare—Brand New
Treat You Better—Shawn Mendes
All of Me—John Legend
Can't Help Falling in Love—Haley Reinhart
I Am A Nightmare—Brand New
Breakeven—The Script
When You're Gone – Avril Lavigne
Don't Go—Bring Me The Horizon
